


A Three-Eyed Angel

by Jay_the_Dragon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_the_Dragon/pseuds/Jay_the_Dragon
Summary: An angel falls from heaven, and their soul enters a human child, leading to a horrifying childhood of torture and pain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this could be triggering to quite a few people. I felt awful writing some parts of this but I had to write this, and I want you to make sure you are completely prepared to read this story.

At age 4,658, I fell from the sky. I was unconscious for most of my fall, and I didn’t know what would happen once I reached the ground. Would I go to hell like Lucifer did? Or would I die forever? I wasn’t sure, but I would soon find out.

I hit the ground, and it should have hurt, but it appeared my holy form was too disoriented to understand. My many eyes were blind. My wings were broken. I felt my form flickering out of existence, and then I was nothing but a ball of light. I tried to fly upwards, towards Heaven, towards my father. I didn’t know if I was moving or not.

Suddenly, I saw. Lights, skin, cloth. I saw a human woman. She did not look happy, or joyous, or relieved like I had seen in so many human births. She looked disgusted and horrified.

I can only remember so clearly because of my angelic soul. I did not know it at the time, but that look would mean a horrible life for me…

 

-

 

Aarin scrambled away from his mother as she swung the metal ladle at him. He held his arm close, scarlet red where he had been burned by the metal. His mother’s favorite punishment. She would hold metal over the stove and hit him with it when it got hot enough to leave a scar.

His vision was even worse with the tears filling his three eyes. The left two blinked simultaneously to try and clear them, even though nothing ever really came out of those eyes. He ran to his bedroom, despite how little it would do for his safety.

The room reminded him of why he was being punished. A toy had evaded his poor sight while he was cleaning and Mother had stepped on it and gotten angry.

She started screaming, and he could hear her footsteps pounding towards the door. Aarin wheezed from the exertion, but shoved himself underneath the bed. He clung to the bed frame and held himself off the floor. He’d done this enough times to know how to hold the bars so his hands didn’t start cramping.

“GET BACK HERE YOU DEMONIC SHIT!” he winced at the screech. He wasn’t a demon, was he? He couldn’t be. Not when so many people had called his third eye “amazing” and “pleasantly strange.” Maybe they changed their minds? He hadn’t seen anyone in a while.

_ I was strange to them, the traits that came with my soul attempted to fit in a human body, and I was born with an extra eye. To them, I was too different to live with. _

The slamming of a door signified that his father was home. He would find Aarin, and his hiding spot would be ruined. The only thing he feared more than the burning metal of a kitchen utensil was his father getting his hands on him.

A rough, tight grip ripped his hand off of the metal bars and threw him against the wall. He whimpered as the same hand raised a leather belt high up in the air. It came down hard on his back, and then it hit him again. He was sobbing, tears streaming down the right side of his face. At least they, whichever one it was, weren’t trying to smash his left eyes into on singular eye. He still had marks from that. Finally, whether due to exhaustion or dehydration, his eyes closed and everything went back.

 

-

 

She was apparently convinced that he had sprouted four blue wings. Mother’s nails dug into his scalp and yanked at his long hair. He barely felt the pain, too used to be thrown by the constantly growing hair on his head. There was, once again, a belt. It had little metal pieces all along the center shaped like pyramids.

Mother roared profanities and insults at Aarin. He was a waste of space. He was the devil’s spawn, or the devil himself. She wished he had never been born, and he wished it too. Aarin gritted his teeth harder with each slap of the belt across his shoulders. Father would not come home for a while, so he only had to deal with this. If he could get through without crying, maybe he could get dinner.

A small part of him thought of ending this himself. He knew he could. Mother had said so, but he hated her, and didn’t want to do what she wanted him to.

His eyes had gotten worse. Getting hit repeatedly didn’t do much for his vision, which meant he got hit more. It was a vicious cycle. Finally, the pain stopped, leaving only a burning wet feeling on his back. Aarin shakily reached back and felt the tender skin. Blood. He had never been beaten to the point of bleeding, and yet he had this strange memory.

_ For the first time since my early creation days, I bled. I cried. I had lost hope, and thought my soul had died. _

A sweet, multi-colored light. It made him feel happy, but in this memory, he was not male, nor was he female. Aarin reached out to touch a gorgeous flower. It was so pretty and orange. They wanted to pick it for this light, but as soon as their hand wrapped around the stem, they pulled back. Their hand was golden and radiant, but a black fluid began to seep up from their not-skin. Aarin began to cry, and the light surrounded them and made the pain go away. A gentle, deep voice spoke in their mind, chuckling at the attempt to pick a rose.

“ Roses have thorns, little one. You must be careful with them. Despite the pain they may cause, they can be delicate. I appreciate your attempt, but try something less dangerous.” They leaned into the touch of the strange light.

Suddenly he was back in the present. His mother was yelling at him again. He knew what she wanted, even if he had missed what she was saying.

He carefully pushed himself up and stumbled to his room. There were rags in there to clean himself up, if only to keep from getting bodily fluids on the floor. The feverish feeling of blood dripping down his back made him shiver. He wiped it up as fast as possible, trying to keep any blood from dripping onto anything.

Aarin sighed once he was done and curled up on the mattress. He stayed off his back to avoid too much irritation to the open wound.

 

-

 

Aarin had called the police, gotten a number from the tv and had a vague idea how to use a phone. His mother had caught him and he was being punished. It was his fault. He knew it was.

He had screwed up. His father threw him to the ground and made him feel like he was being ripped open like some feral beast’s prey. He sobbed at the pain. They feeling of blood running down his inner thigh made him sick. His throat was gripped tightly in his father’s hand and he felt his head go fuzzy. The door was kicked open and two police officers stormed in.

They appeared to be helping. His mother was grabbed by one, and the other approached him and his father. He was dropped instantly and his father attempted to button up his jeans before running. Three more people walk into the living room. Aarin didn’t move, too scared to do anything but lay brokenly on the floor.

_ Finally, someone saved me. I survived the torture and I was saved. I still thank my father that I stayed alive. _

He felt something touch his shoulder, and the blurry face of a woman appeared above him. Immediately, he wanted to turn away, to run from the touch, but it wasn’t harmful. He was reminded of the light, gently explaining not to pick the roses, and he smiled, for the first time in his human life. Arms held him carefully, making sure not to be too tight or scare him.

A new memory hits him immediately and he knows that he is, again, neither male or female.

Other beings that they recognize as siblings surrounded them. They were tall, glowing, with many eyes and four wings. Two long ears stuck out from the sides of their heads. They felt at home and relaxed. Most of the beings were checking creatures, ones that they recognized, some they didn’t. They can feel words pushing at the back of their mind. Names. They relax, and when Aarin comes back to the present, he is on a stretcher.

The woman who held him while his parents were arrested had a hand on his chest. She appeared to be smiling down at him, and he was worried for a second. Would he be beat for calling them? He must have shown it on his face, because she spoke.

“‘You’re safe now, sweetheart. I promise, no one will hurt you, again,” she said softly. Her voice wasn’t as calming as the light. He wanted the light to talk to him. He wanted to be warned about the pretty roses, with the thorns that made him bleed. At least she didn’t say anything about his eyes.

Aarin closed his eyes and let himself fall into the most comfortable sleep he’d had in years while he was taken to the hospital.

 

-

 

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” Michael said, looking at the three abused, scarred eyes. “I don’t mind your scars.”

Aarin watched his face as best as they could, searching for any signs of deception. Even after all these years, they still didn’t trust what people said. Michael had been the first person to not question their scars, the ones that made them sick when their vision was clear enough to see the damage.

They could give someone their pronouns now, thanks to a therapist who had discussed the feeling they got when they were called male. The sadness, and the sense that something was off. She had told them that maybe they did not identify as male, a concept entirely new to them. 

Back to the present, Aarin smiled at him (they smiled a lot more now) and then buried their face in the pillows. Michael ran a hand over the white braids that they had done together earlier. It made them happy to be touched in such a caring way, to not have their hair pulled, but pet gently, for their skin to be caressed as though they were the most beautiful of God’s creations, and not hit with a belt for having imaginary wings.

_ Finally, someone loved me and my features. My strange third eye, my long white hair, the scars I’m covered in. I was so happy. _

Another memory hit them, but they could not place it. They were older, and so was Michael. He held a human child, and Aarin felt an emotional connection to it. They got a look at the face from their position, and noticed that the child had four eyes, instead of humanity’s normal two eyes. A flutter of happiness and fear took hold of them, but there were no looks of disgust on either of their faces, just happiness.

“...rin? You alright?” Michael was staring in confusion and fear. What had happened? Was that the future?

“Uh… Yeah, I’m alright honey. Don’t worry,” they replied. Lips were pressed gently to their forehead. They relaxed against the warm body in front of them and closed their eyes.

 

-

 

Michael, I love you, and I thought you should know exactly what happened to me. I had no idea I was an angel until about 3 years ago. In 5 more years, we’ll have a child born with four eyes, and that will affect their life, but I don’t want them to go through what I did.

Never before this life did I experience such intense pain. I had never known fear, and now I no longer fear my existence. I am an angel, and I hope that changes nothing. I still get memories, I still see the future, and I know now that God was my actual father, and not the man who tortured me for fourteen years of my life.

_ Don’t you miss anyone up there? Up in Heaven? It must be difficult being so far away. _

Yes, beautiful, I miss my siblings, and I miss my father, who I now know was the light I yearned for. But I am happy down here with you. I don’t need to go back up to Heaven to be happy. I will stay with you until I have to go back up. I could never leave you or our future child.

I love you so much Michael.

_ I love you too, Aarin. _


End file.
